PS 3523 
.E87 F6 
1894 
Copy 1 



LEWIS 




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J^^ TwTififi»r 
JUN 5 190'' 

Copyrighted, iSgi, by 
Juan Lewis. 



TSxa 





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p- 



BY 



JUAN LEWIS 



- J I 




'^**r ' ■ 



[second edition.] 



WASHINGTON, D. C. 

1S94. 



(oi)tei)ts. 



'^ITLE- PAGE. 

The Forging of the Sword, . . . • 9-15 

My Suit Comes In, ..... . 16 

Song of the Sea, ...... 17-18 

Alice's Birthday, ...... 18 

Her Name or Mine, ..... iq 

Masked Faces, ....... 20 

A Memory, ....... 20 

On an Old Canteen, ...... 21-24 

A Summer Longing, ..... 24 

Tempos Fugit, .... . . 25-26 

Thank God for Tears, ..... 26 

The Wedding Day, ...... 27-2S 

A Battle Ode— Gettysburg, .... 29-30 

Town and Country, ...... 31 

Blue Sky Beyond, ..... 32 

Discipline, . ...... 32 

Her Birthday— To Babv Rose, • ■ • 33 

Grip and Tip, ....... 34 

Love and Duty, ••■■••• 35 

Men of Action, . ■ . . 36 

A Draught Divine, ...... 37 

Strike Out, ....... 73 

Her Sixteenth Birthday, .... 

It's in Lovk that I Am, ..... 

Return of the Regiment, ..... 41-44 

Come and be Kissed, .... 45 

A Song for Labor, ...... 45-46 

There Cometh a God Given Man, . . . 47-48 

1 Love You So, ..... 
On an Old Coin, .... 



39 
40 



49-52 

53 

Age to Youth, ....... 54 

Her Seventeenth Birthday, . , . . 

O Keep me Hope, . . .... 

The City of thk Dead, ..... 

Samuel Jackson Randall, ..... 58 

To a Jewess, ■-.... 59-60 

Why I See Hhr, . . . . , . . 6r 

Their Silver Wedding, . . . V . -62 

Jacob Lundy Brotherton, . , . ^ . 63 



55 
56 

57 



Contents- 
title. 

FijFTEEN To-day, . 
On Grant's Memoirs, 
The Saii,or's Parting, 
To A Lady Contributor, 
Young was the Love, . 
Not Dead, but Gone Before, 
Christmas Chimes, 
The Lady of My Thought, 
Resurrexi, 
Married, 

Her Eighteenth Birthday, 
Time the Test, 
Truepenny Trot, 
Mrs. Harriet Lewis, 
At the Depot, 

Her very Smii,e is a Caress, 
To the American Eagle, 
I Love Another, 
Hymn to Peace— Gettysburg, 
To One Beyond, 
No Love is Lost, 
Hail on the In-bound Tack, 
A Battle Prelude, 
The Magdalen, 
In Memoriam, E. A. C. 
Arithmetic, 

Acrostic, .... 
Sumpter, 

Love of Drink is a Disease, 
Ye Story of Ye Pyg, 
To A Quaker Friend, 
Ready For Burial, 
Again Face to Pack, 
Parting Song, 



-Coutiuued. 



page. 

64 

64 

65-65 

66 

67 
68 

69-70 
70 

71 

72 

73-74 
74 

75-76 
77 
78 
79 
80 

81-S2 
83 
84 

85-86 
86 

87-88 
88 
89 
90 
90 

91-92 
92 

93-97 

98-100 

Id 

102 

103 



Nedicatior). 



The sword has been the theme of songs 
On Fame' s great scroll since armies met, 

But glory give where if belongs — 
The arm belmid the bayonet ! 

The Private Soldier! Still I feel 
As when I saw yojir bright eyes shine, 

Your stre7igth of soul in burnished steel, 
That flamed along our battle line! 

I see your firm arms strong and'true, 

I sec your ranlis for battle set, 
I see the patriot' s fires in you, 

God's Faith behind the bayo7iei! 

Oh, private soldier! 'Thy Spartan dead 
The Future^ s patriot seed shall be, 

A thousand hearts where o?ie has bled 
Shall rise to make new peoples free! 

fUAN LE WIS. 
Brookland, D. C. 
IS 93. 



Poems : By yuan Lewis. 




The Forging of the Sword. 

[South Carolina, April, 1865.] 

A low-roofed shed, with house set back, 

A cross where four roads meet, 
A tall, square chimney, painted black, 

That leaned towards the street ; 
And close beyond, a purling brook, 

And near, a field of grain. 
That in the mellow sunshine took 

A shape like battle-plain. 



lO The Forging of the Sword. 

A mirage of the mind, perhaps, * 

And yet the cornfield near. 
The orchard in its leafy wraps. 

Brought up a vision clear ; 
Antietam's field by sun-light kissed, 

The clouds that rose on hicrh, 
The light winds turned to crimson mist. 

The bugle call to die. 

But here, I see the blacksmith stand. 

With brawny arm up raised. 
While on the anvil lay a brand. 

That fiashed out molten rays ; 
And quick beneath his sturdy stroke. 

The fiery mass took form. 
As Eden out of Chaos broke, 

Or sunshine follows storm. 

His helper at the forge was one. 

Scarce sixteen summers through. 
Yet beauteous as the summer sun. 

Or throne, or cot e'er knew ; 
With eyes as scintillant as night, 

A form of Beauty's seal. 
An innocence, at heart as light. 

And pure as saints may feel. 



Poems : By Juan Lewis. 



1 1 



Fast fell the strokes, quick grew the blade, 

To highly tempered steel, 
And well he wrought, as one who made, 
■ Both men and Nations reel. 



m \W 




With steady hand and eagle eye. 
He forged and watched by turns. 

As if his were blows for Liberty, 
And thus her watch-fire burns. 



12 The Forging of the Sword. 

The sparks flew out, the anvil rung, 

The bellows blew its blast 
The maiden raised her voice and sung. 

Of Freedom's skies o'ercast, ; 
Of battle-fields, of men who died, 

Of blood, and wounds and war. 
Of patriots' hopes, whose rights denied. 

Flamed upward like a star ; 

Of glory such as victors sing. 

Of countless numbers slain, 
Of hospitals where Pain was king. 

Of mothers' ^ears, all vain. 
And as she sang her sweet voice grew 

To wondrous melody, 
Recalled great heroes lives anew, 

Their struggles to be free. 

And then her voice new pathos took, 

Her tones new feeling lent, 
She sang of those whom friends forsook, 

Whose homes the war had rent. 
And as she sang the forge-light fell, 

The finished blade grew cold, 
Sweet songs a better tale can tell, 

Than that of warriors bold. 



Poems : By Juan Lewis. 

And this the sturdy blacksmith felt, 

And through his veins there ran, 
A thrill, as if himself had knelt. 

Where man had died for man ; 
"Yet here," "he cried," 'mid pines and oaks. 

And civilization rude, 
Our hearts have been in battle-strokes, 

Not in this solitude. 

" O vision of the Past, stand back, • 

Of three long, bitter years, 
In which the victor's bloody track, 

Could never bring these tears ! 
Too old to take the field, yet not 

Less sturdy at the forge. 
Than was my grandsire when he fought. 

With Hampden for King George. 

"I've wrought good blades for other's use, 

Believing each would shine, 
A harbinger of victory. 

In younger hands than mine ; 
Oh, child, you know how I have borne. 

With other ills — neglect, 
Now, when our Cause was most forlorn, 

I kept my head erect. 



14 Tlie Forging of the Sword. 

" My hand as firm, my heart as true, 

As compass to the star, 
And this the country owes to }Ou, 

My darling, that you are ! 
For I — God help me ! — flesh is weak, 

Have seen you wan and thin. 
Yet never flinch, and always speak. 

As if our Cause must win. 

• " But, oh, the power that comes with song, 

I see it clearer, now. 
The forging of the sword was wrong. 

It should have been the plow ! 
On battle fields our loved lie dead, 

War's glory trails in dust. 
For Peace is in the sky o'erhead, 

And God alone is Just." 

He spurned the steel with saddened brow, 

Like one whose soul abhored, 
The task his hands enjoyed till now. 

The forging of the Sword. 
He turned to where his darling stood. 

But started at the sight, 
The girl, up- sprung, had snatched her hood. 

And bird-like poised for flight. 



Poems : By Juan Lewis. 1 5 

The beauty of the Orient, 

Was in her form and tace, 
As framed within the forge she bent. 

Her glance beyond on space : 
A moment more with thund'rous tread, 

A horseman dashed in view. 
Oh, why that joyous shout and dread. 

It was a form they knew ! 

A phantom soldier, long a corse, 

If field reports were true, 
And yet he sprang from off his horse. 

With a cheery, wild hallo ! 
And "Sister," "Brother," "Father," "Son," 

Fond cries that fill the air, 
All one in three, and three in one. 

Which rise to Heaven — a prayer. 



Note. — Fisher, the "deaf" sword-maker of the Confederacy, is 
dead. He passed away at Cove Spring Ga., recently, at an advan- 
ced age. He was born in England, but came to this country with 
his parents when only a few years old. His family settled at 
Harper's Ferry, where he learned the art of sword-making. He 
was educated at Hartford, Conn., where in 1S40 he was married 
to ? young lady, a deaf mute. At the outbreak of the war he 
went to Atlanta and superintended the forging of weapons of war- 
fare. At the close of the war he became an instructor in the 
deaf and dumb institution at Cove Spring. — Sojithern Paper, 1S89. ' 



1 6 My Ship Comes In. 



My Ship Comes In. 



With sails drawn taut above, below, 

My ship comes in to port, 
The weary waiting days were slow, 
For hope was at the ebb or flow, 

And never crowned at court. 

God bless the breeze that blew her in. 

And brought her up the bay, 
The wealth she bears to kith and kin, 
Is naught to me, nor could it win. 
One smile from him this day. 

Be still my heart, swift furl the sail. 

The anchor quick let fall, 
Love's eager hand is on the rail, 
I meet a glance Doubt cannot quail. 

For Faith can conquer all. 

Great heroes of the world are ye. 

Who bring our ships to port. 
From inland by-ways, or from sea, 
Yet breezes spiced all wait for thee. 
For Love is King at Court ! 



Poems : By yuan Lewis. 







^ 







■£^;i,.^ I iiK sea-foam is kissino my 



lips. 
The salt is blown loose thro 

my hair, 
Through the crest of the waves' 

snowy tips, 
White hands seem to beckon 

me there. 



O syren from under the main. 

Shall 1 yield to thy luring embrace? — 

If I (JO I shall come not again. 

No foot-prints are left to retrace. 

And yet this were nothing to dread, 

For what to the many is one? — 
Like the sand that the storm-wind has spread, 

Like the rain on the sea when it's done ! 



1 8 Soil" of the Sea. 

sea, never silent nor sad. 

My life offers homage to thee, 
In thine arms I would lie and be glad. 
In thy bosom find life that's to be! 

1 yield, then, I go, I depart, 

O, spirit that's born of the wave, 

Cling close, lovely syren, this heart 

Must find a new life or a erave ! 



)T<5^ 




Alice's Birthday. 

IdCE, name of all the sweetest, 
"^ '^i^ Love, of all life's hopes completest. 
In thee unite, like air and litfht ! — 
Could wish of mine bring happier day, 
Endless were thy joys alway ! 



Poems : By Jjtan Lewis. 

Her Name, or Mine. 



19 




HH wrote two words upon the sand, 
I stood remote and saw her do it ; 

Her name and mine ? Along- the strand 
I swiftK- sped, \ et felt 1 knew it ! 

My name, or her's ? 'Tis thus love writes, 
^_ Unconscious in her adoration, 

As morninor's mist, or fancy's flights, 
Or — Laureled Cassar ! — (Peroration.) 

Not mine ! nor hers, the name she wrote; 
But just the Deacon's exhortation, 
\\ hen on bent pin, in tail of coat. 

He sat in church — a brief oration. 
Can such things be ? 1 reach her side, 

'i"o read the name fond love discloses, 
My name or hers ; above the tide 
1 see it yet ; 'twas " Holy Moses ! " 




20 



Masked /•aces. 



Masked Faces. 




l.y'K sit behind our daily masks, 

Expressionless as Egypt's sphinx, 
W'c liend to greed-appointed tasks, 

Our aims scarce nobler than the lynx. 

Oh, is this all of life to live ? — 
Men born to Spirit-truth, you ask, 

Must still the false be all we give, 
The Man be hid behind a mask ? 



If this be all bring out the sword, 

CLit down the slave, no longer bask. 

Where idlingf Self finds full accord. 
And drop for aye that facial mask ! 



A Memory. 

NLY a four-leaf clov'er. 
Yet plucked by her dear hand 
A joy to the absent lover. 
Only love can understand. 



VaI> 



mm 










22 The Old Canteen. 



The Old Canteen. 

[Found by the author on the held twenty-five years after the battle. J 



rfrROM the bivouac and battle, 
From the dyuig and the dead, 
Shriek of shell, and muskets' rattle. 

Where the parting soul is sped ; 
Dost thou rise, a rusty vision, 

A shadowed past that falls between. 
My joys of peace and hours elysian. 

And link my soul to thine, canteen ? 

I mind me of the dusty march. 

When such as thou no gold could buy. 
And when the bridge that spans the arch, 

'Twixed life and death scarce spanned a sigh: 
I mind me of the wounds, the blood. 

Of comrades dear, and tried, and true, 
Of soil they trod to crimson mud, 

And, dying, drank from such as you! 



Poems : By Juau Lewis. 

Canteen ! canteen ! to thee we owe, 

Success that merged in victory then, 
Without thee, arm had failed its blow, 

And with thee, couraLre came a^ain ; 
On sunny fields, in hot by-ways, 

Begrimed by smoke, indent by ball, 
O faithful friend, through all those days, 

You stood First Love of comrades all ! 

In camp, on guard, or where the dead 

In silence slept in Glory's pall, 
Grim witness ! say how heroes bled, 

And fighting fell, as patriots fall ; 
Vet, no ! bid hence the shadowed years, 

For who would live them o'er again, 
The doubt, the agony, the tears, 

With love, one long-drawn sigh of pain ? 

Canteen, thy shine is lost in rust. 

Thy day of use long since has passed, 
But yet, from out the battle's dust. 

Evoke a spirit that shall last ; 
Not that of war, and wounds, and death. 

Or ruined homes, or battle plain, 
But one of peace, as Freedom's breath. 

Blows free o'er fields of waving grain. 



24 Tke Old Canteen. 

Bid Hope her bow of promise raise. 

Bid Faith again her arms uplift. 
Bid Love rejoice with songs of praise, 

And hearts respond to Freedom's gift ; 
For once again, hke those of old, 

Who walked the fires the prophets trod. 
We view a land whose purest gold, 

Is welded by the hand of God. 

Canteen ! canteen ! no more we drink, 

The Wine of Life from out thy kind. 
Thy march is o'er, and millions think 

The march of years, is march of mind ! 
Hang in the fire-light on the wall, 

Reminder of the soldier- day, 
While love and friendship guides us all, 

And wisdom points a nobler way. 



A Summer Longing, 

H, sea ! oh sky ! that beckons me, 
Oh, sail ! white-winged across the foam, 
I drop my pen and follow thee. 
Thou harbinger of rest, of home ! 



Poems : By yuan Leivii. 



2:) 




We count the days, we clutch the hours, 
As fleeing seasons come and go, 

We seek in joy to make them ours, 
Yet fail to stop Time's outward flow. 

The days grow short that once were long, 
As age, the Tyrant, bids us haste. 

And shriller grows the voiceless song, 
And distant seasons youth has graced. 

For Time hath wings that know no rest. 
As life has cares to drag us down, 

And years are sweetest and the best, 
If filled with toil, they gain the crown. 



The crown of Good— the full content, 
The all that is of worth — of strife — 

The Love that bears the best intent, 
'j'ransmutcs to ookl the humblest life. 



26 Tempus Fugit. 

So fly, old Time, nor lag behind, 
As flee the shadows we pursue. 

You cannot catch the immortal mind, 
That shall outlive both death and you. 



)T<^rr. 



Thank God for Tears. 




vHANK God for tears!— 

That when sorrowing the most. 

Through the desolated years. 
And storms lower upon life's coast, 

The clouds may break thro' all, 
And tears, blessed tears may fall ; 

Thank God for tears! 

Thank God for tears! — 

As in desert wastes the dew. 

The weary wanderer cheers. 
With hopes and life anew. 

So tears, to souls storm-swept, 

Still are divine as when Jesus wept ; 

Thank God lor tears ! 



Poems : By yuan Lewis. 



27 



The Wedding Day. 




SUM and crown of happy life, 
O day that dwarfs the years so small, 
When merges Maiden in the Wife, 
And love, itself, is all in all ! 



Great hopes take color from to-day, 
Tho' precious tears are gem'd to fall, 

Love's rainbow spans life's arc alway. 
For love, indeed, is all in all ! 

I know not how the child may love, 
Whose ties of Being yet must wake, 
Unfledged for fliaht the snowy dove. 

Knows not the height its wings may take ; 



Nor yet how rugged man may choose. 
In all the splendor of hisjpower, 

To live alone and love refuse. 

When love alone is Heaven's dower; 



I know not how old age may love, 
When voices from the past may call. 

But love I know is from above, 
What e'er its years, 'tis all in all ! 



28 



The Weddiuo Day. 

It may be Youth it may be Age, 
Or ripened Manhood's early morn, 

When e'er it comes life's brightest page. 
Is oolden with a faith new born! 



Oh, birthright of the chosen one, 

Oh, guerdon that survived the Fall. 
All else may perish ! — but the sun 



Of Love outlasts 



tis all m al 



Then drink to beauty in its bloom, 
To manly promise in its youth 

The budded rose yields sweet perfume. 
And souls that love unite in truth. 

Oh, sheaves of Fruitage ! bind tluni last. 

With golden words beyond recall. 
Oh, summer skies forever last. 

And love to each be all in all ! 




Poetns : By Juan Lewis. 29 

Gettysburg: A Battle-Ode. 

[Delivered at the dedication of the Battle Monument, representing 
a kneeling Soldier, at Gulp's Hill, July 2, iSSS. — Twenty-fifth anni- 
versary of the meeting of the Blue and Gray.] 

O Gettysburg, fair Gettysburg ! 
From out the gloom of gathered years, 
From homes of peace that love endears. 

With shattered ranks we come : 
Not now, as when a hell of men, 
And blood and tears, in murderous years, 

We left thee silent, dumb ! 

O Gettysburg, stern Gettysburg ! 
Before thy storms of fire and death, 
And leaden hail, and cannon's breath, 

We were not dumb that day : 
For Freedom spoke in battle smoke, 
•As now, in peace — Christ's blessed Peace — 

Pray God she speaks alway ! 

O Gettysburg, loved Gettysburg ! 
Here shall thy future pilgrims meet, 
With clasping hands and staying feet, 

And joy-songs of the morn : 

For not in vain, this battle plain. 
If War's red root brings Freedom's fruit. 

To freemen yet unborn ! 



^O Gettysburg : A Battle Ode. 

O Gettysburg, dear Gettysburg ! 
Yon marble lips in voiceless speech, 
A far-off reverent age shall reach. 

In Wisdom's nobler plan ; 
And they shall kneel, and steadfast feel. 
The Patriot's hope have larger scope. 

They, too, can die for man ! 

O Gettysburg, sad Gettysburg ! 
Thy turf is billowed o'er with graves, 
Of friend and foe, alike — our braves — 

. Our hero-souls, new — born : 
For every sheaf, and bud, and leaf 
Proclaim an hour, true souls shall flower, 

This resurrection morn ! 

O Gettysburg, bright Gettysburg ! 
Thy fire-scathed hills to-day are calm, 
The lapsing years — Time's healing balm. 

Rest lightly on thy sod : 
Shine out, glad sun, where Valor won. 
And sound o'er all Life's bugle call. 

Of Love, of Home, of God. 




Poems : By yuan Lewis 




Leaden sky and dripping roof, 
|l( In rubber shoes and water-proof, 
I go about the city : 
Or glaring sun, or horrid noise. 
Disturbs my brain and equipose, 
And wakes my neighbor's pity. 

F"or he, unhke myself, may go. 
Where flowers and fruits invite me so, 

From city dull and dreary : 
From dust and heat, and odors stale, 
To country breeze, and hill and dale, 

Where life can never weary. 

Then let us hence, not stay our feet. 
But answer from this garish street. 

Like bugle calls to duty : 
We go where roses blush and blow, 
And skies and woods in splendor glow, 

We seek suburban beauty ! 




32 Bhie Sky Beyond. 

Discipline. 

HH gale may through the cordage whistle. 
The salt spray smite the cheek it kissed, 
The sails be blown like down from thistle. 
But not one heart-beat shall be missed. 

Not his the head that droops for pillow. 
Not his the wish that sighs for land. 

In calm or storm he rides the billow, 
Supreme in action and command. 

O disciplined, and skillful leader ! — 
Afloat, ashore, on sea or sod, 

What is thy lesson ? — patient reader. 
Duty, faith and trust in God ! 




Blue Sky Beyond. 

'^HAT matter if the low clouds drift 
Across the brightness of the sun. 
For as they drift they sunward lift, 
And show the blue sky far beyond. 

Oh, world of toil, of cares and tears, 
Why should we at the clouds repine. 

Our skies will clear in coming years, 
Beyond the drift is Love divine. 



Poems : By yuan Lewis. 33 

Her Birthday— To Baby Rose. 

^*UChl a joy as blew into my haven of calm, 
^ 1 Was a ripple ot sunshine only heaven discloses, 
Though rteeting the rift, 
Love's anoels were swift, 
To sing in w\\ heart of a Rose of all roses ! 

Oh June was the month bringing incense and balm, 
With the flower of all flowers that life's petals uncloses, 

So blessed the day. 

Its recurrence alway 
Is like wine in a desert, my Rose of all roses! 

Then give me your hand, with your soul in its palm, 
While 1 ])ledge you a day that love ne'er discloses. 

Need I say it is thine? 

Or that while life is mine, 
Thy birthday is love's and thou — Rose of all roses ! 




G 



34 Grip and Tip. 

Grip and Tip. 

[For the Children.] 

RII^ and Tip two neighbors are, 
Little Grip, big Tip, 
Such friendly dogs, so free from care. 
Yet watchful too, that unaware. 

No tramp may come, they skip, 
The sturdy Tip, spr\ Grip. 

And when, if either has a bone. 

Big Tip, or little Grip. 
Each helps each maintain his own, 
As vested rights in him alone, 

No outside dog dare nip, 

Or tackle Tip or Grip. 

We may not know what they may think, 

Little Grip, big Tip, 
But near the border line or brink, 
'Twixt men and dogs we need not shrink, 
To know one sense may ours outstrip, 
In sturdy Tip, quick Grip. 

If we could see in human kind. 

Such friends as Grip and Tip, 
A something that is more than Mind, 




Poems : By Juati Lewis. 35 

And yet has in it ties that bind, 

As Fakh and Truth in them we find, 

The flippant world might flip, 

And learn from Grip and Tip. 

Love and Duty. 

AN hath his limits ; with no wings, 
To soar aloft through Time and space. 
His Thought when'er it upward springs, 
Will people deserts with the race. 

Man hath his limits; still he keeps, 

The cycling ages as his own, 
His path leads upward to the steeps, 

Where Mind is monarch of the throne. 

Man hath his limits; yet he gives, 

A glow of his immortal fire, 
To all that breathes, or moves or lives, 

Or lifts to Heaven a fond desire. 

Man hath his limits ; all we know. 

Or need to know, in paths we trod. 
Is simple Duty ; Times o'erthrow, 

Will find this duty Love to God. 




36 Men of Action. 

Men of Action. 

^H, men of soul who dare and do, 
The hour is close at hand, 
The world hath need of such as you. 

Come out with sword in hand. 
Too long ye've lingered by the way, 

Seen knaves and puppets dance, 

Till bursts in dawn a brighter day, 
Whose watchword is advance ! 

Come out, come out, oh, men of soul, 

And bring the promised ark, 
The battle waits the bugle roll, 

And Truth her shining mark. 
The world is weary of the frauds, 

The dawdling shams in view, 
Oh, give us those, against all odds, 

Who noble deeds will do. 

Oh, men of action, strong and true. 

Your swords of soul must shine, 
In farthest years among the few. 

Who made their lives divine. 
Come out in deeds, in action come, 

And charge with shining lance. 
Mere words are nothing, thought is dumb. 

But progress means advance ! 



Poems: By Juan Lczuis. 



A Draught Divine. 




POUR for mc a draueht divine, 
fe'^i ^ sweet libation freely pour, 
%The only cup thy ripe, red lips, 
\\ hich brimming o'er with love, eclipse 
All wines that man or god e'er sips, 

Yet malces the drinker thirst for more, 
And pledge anew to thee and thine. 



O pour for me a draught divine, 

And fill the cup to overflow. 
Nor spill one drop of nectared bliss. 
From thee to me, as this — or this — 
[The echo sweet where all joys meet,] 
() thrill that still asks kiss for kiss, 
My cup of love that trembles so; 

O o-lowing lips, add flame to mine. 

And pour for me a draught divine! 




^^Oi^N^ •''^ 



38 Strike Oiit. 



Strike Out. 

TRIKE out! The days are fleeting fast, 
: Strike hard, as one who means to win. 
Strike blows, each harder than the last, 
Strike down all selfishness and sin. 

O, man of truth, of sense, of brain, 

Stay not thy hand, thy skill, thy force, 

But make the whole earth ring again 
With praise of thy unselfish course. 

All things are his who wills to grasp, 
The earth is his with wish to own. 

But wish, and will, and power to clasp, 
Lives in the stroke, from hut to throne ! 

Strike out, strike fast ! Strike hard and long. 
Strike off the fetters of the mind, 

Strike for the Right against the Wrong, 
Strike out for Good, and all Mankind ! 



Poems : By yuan Lewis. 39 

Her Sixteenth Birthday. 

[To Blanche.] 

(]ET others sing the charm of Age, 

When calmer Reason sways between 
Our hopes and fears — Life's gilded page 
Reflects no fears at sweet sixteen ! 

The power of gold, the joy of youth, 
The love that brings a golden mean, 

All years may bring ; but once in truth, 
Will come the charm of sweet sixteen ! 

1"he joyous past, the future good, 

The friendships dear, the loves serene, 
The splendid dawn of womanhood. 

Take brisfhter lights from sweet sixteen ! 

And this, thy hour, has come to-day. 

A day of smiles and flowers, I ween, 
That big with promise, holds alway. 

The joys and hopes of sweet sixteen. 

And though the charm may pass away, 

In riper beauties' varying sheen, 
The envious graces all shall pray. 

For one more hour of sweet sixteen. 




r 



.40 It's hi Love That I W?;?. 

It's In Love, That I Am. 

[Irisli SoiiK-1 

I' T'S in love that 1 am, with ye darling, 

In love, and I wish ye were mine. 
Yet how can I hope that my being, 

With one that s so blessed may twine? 
Ye have all the rich beauty, my darling. 

Sweet graces that come from above. 
While in lover-like duty, my darling, 

I have only an ocean of love 

Its in love that I am with ye, darling, 

Oh, accept, then, a homage like mine, 
A heart that's all tender and bursting. 

With its burden of promise tlivine. 
Ye know I lack polish in wooing 

IVIy phrases, at best are but weak, 
Tho' my heart may throb tears in the sueing, 

Still answer, my darling, oh, speak ! 

It's the love that is with ye, my darling. 

It's the soul that is kneeling to you. 
That cries to the .heart in your bosom, 

For answer to mine that is true ! 
Oh, a smile on thy lips 1 see breaking. 

Like the dawn on a roseate sea, 
O Rapture ! the blissful awaking. 

To a love so Iouct hidden iroin me ! 




Poems : By Juan Lewis. 41 

Return of the Regiment. 

,0 you forget 
The crowd that met 
Three years ago — historic years ? 

Marching along, a patriot throng, 
Gath'ring with loud hurrahs and cheers ; 

The music of bands, the grasping of hands, 
The partings, freighted with hopes and fears. 
The waving of scarfs, and love's bright tears, 
While under the flag each heart reveres, 
Gay as the day, 
In sunny Broadway, 
Our gallant boys went marching along, 
"Off for the war" — one thousand strong! 

We then all thought. 

That e'er we fought. 
One-third three years the war would end ; 

One battle's rush, we thought would crush 
It out and send us home again ! 

Twas not to be, for "strategy" 
Just then was "chief and to extend 
His lines remote and thei-e defend, 
He'd march twice 'round to gain the end ! 

Putting a cordon 

'Round the rebel Jordan, 
Was mere child's play for old strategy then. 
In the days we numbered a thousand men ! 



42 Return of tlie Regiment. 

Ah nevermore, 

Upon Time's shore, 
Will march that thousand strone in life ! 
The gallant few, to-night with you, 
Speak silently of deadly strife ; 

Of Southern sun, of battles won. 
Where, next the foe, our banners stream — 
Symbols of Hope for Freedom's realm — 
As God's avencrinof liahtningrs eleam ; 

" Charge" from throat, 

And bugle note ! — 
Hushed the breath and fix'd the eye, 
" Forward," to death or victory ! 

Where muskets' flash. 
And cannons' crash, 

Made grimest music sink and swell. 

Nor could arrest our boys who pres't 
Through withering storms of shot and shell, 

And clashing steel, and peal on peal, 
That smites, and shrills, and- shrieks a knell. 
While files closed up as comrades fell, 
Mid sighs and groans, and wild farewell ; 

On, through breath. 

Of cannon's death ; 
Through "white, infernal powder-cloud" — 
A warf and woof for battle-shroud ! 



1r>f- 













44 Return of the Regiment. 

We turn his flanks ; 

His shattered ranks 
Refuse to rally, begin to yield ; 

And swooping past his batteries blast. 
We storm his works and sweep the field ! 

The battle's won ; the day our own f 
The musketry dies slowly out ; 
Our Horse pursue the flying few, 
And ends the day by total rout ! 

Night follows day, 

Tears victory ! 
In one such hour of deadly strife. 
Compress ten years of peaceful life ! 

Green on the wall 

Of Memory's hall, . 
Twine garlands of laurel and myrtle for those 
Who, passing the door of bright evermore, 
Fell as they fought, each face to the foe's. 
Silent the drum, and rusty the sword, 
But down History's aisles, in the future, appears 
Names, looking dim thro' the mist of our tears. 
Yet glowing as martyr's immortal with years ! 

In silence the glass. 

To their memory pass ; 
Another, a bumper, and with it a cheer. 
Let us give to the battle-scarred veterans here ! 




Poems : By yuan Lewis. 

O Come and be Kissed. 

[To a Little Cliild.] 

COMr: and be kissed, 
With thy long lashes drooping, 
The shyest e-xpectancy 
Veiled in thine eyes: 



45 



^"f^i 



O come and be kissed, 
Ju^^Mfu''^-'' As if angels were stooping, 
^f ^f'^W'^^-, And love was outpourin 

&J^JimkM#^ On earth from the skie; 




g 




O come and be kissed. 
For the world it is lonely, 
Its years are enshadowed, 

Love only is true : 

O come and be kissed. 
As if you and I only 
Made the world for ourselves. 
And my half was for you ! 

A Song for Labor. 

TaH, a song for patient labor, 
i£ A word for those who wait, 
A helping hand to neighbor. 
For the toiler at the gate I 



46 - A SoN^ for Labor. 

The world has many a mission, 
That in the shadows hirk, 

But few above suspicion, 
That Self is in the work. 

Oh, a song for patient labor, 
A cry for pallid want, 

Still rusts the idle saber, 
With rags the idlers flaunt. 

Ho ! Hoist the Toiler's banner, 
Your colors nail to mast. 

Let voice and speech and manner. 
Proclaim you rouse at last ! 

There's something to be fought for. 
Oh, win it ye who can. 

What every age has sought for, 
God's heritage in man ! 

Up, then, and grasp the weapons. 
That wait your ready hand, 

The sound of combat deepens, 
Yourself must make the stand. 

With vote, or sword, or bullet, 
' Tis You must right the wrong, 

If law is weak annul it, 

God's right is man's ! Be strong ! 



Poems: By yuan Lewis. 47 



There Cometh a God-given Man. 

[Dedicated to the Women of the C. T. U ] 



^^[JT the Past with its issues behind you, 
^ Nor the shadows receding recall, 
Let the work of humanity bind you, 

To that which is greatest of all. 
For the pure and the true are before you, 

And progress is leading the van, 
Not alone waits the world to adore you, 
It waits for a God-given man. 

And comes he in armour or fustian 

Or comes he in riches or raes. 
He must be of the gold — not the gilded. 

If a soldier — of soul — not of flags ! 
A victor his great heart will greet you, 

The hope in humanity's plan, 
A spirit of love that will meet you, 

With the Truth of a God-aiven man ' 



48 There Cometh a God~gh'cn Maii. 

Then forget man's follies, oh, Woman ! 

The ashes, the weakness, the tears. 
Lift souls from the wastes of the human. 

Grow strong in more beautiful years ! 
The light of a great hope has found you. 

May it gladden, and freshen, and ban. 
All the evil and sorrow that bound )ou. 

And herald a God-given man ! 

It is true other duties may claim you. 

It is true, other deeds must be wrought, 
It is true, the unthinking may blame you. 

Yet duties and deeds follow thought ! 
Then advance ! With the dead bury idols. 

For Woman the Future must scan, 
Where the scythe of the Reaper is waiting. 

The grasp of a God-given man ! 

For in you is the hope of the nations, 

As in you was the Sanctified birth. 
And in you are the Soul's obligations. 

That are noblest and dearest on earth ! 
Then rise in thy might, blessed woman ! 

Like the sea that from rivulets ran, 
Not in vain shall you toil for the human, 

There cometh a God-given man ! 



Poems : By Juan Lewis. 



49 








you ! But you ne'er can know, 
?ternly is the secret kept, 
warm, in fancy, South winds blow, 
through my heart the thought is swept 
O queen of grace, , 
Love fills all space — 
I love you — love you so. 

1 love you ! By those lustrous eyes. 

Twin stars of beauty and delight. 
That glimpse the bounds of Paradise, 
Yet fill my soul with vague affright, 
Lest you should know. 
My joy, my woe — 
1 love you — love you so. 



I love you! Oh, a life's surprise, 
A vision of immortal morn. 



50 / Love Yini So. 

Is in my heart and in mint- eyes, 
Yet sadness in my soul is born : 
You cannot know, 
I must not show, 
1 love you — love you so. 

I love you ! Yet on desert sands 

The sphinx of Silence sets his seal ; 
On me are laid his stern commands, 
And voiceless years bring no appeal : 
But dead Sea fruit 
For one thus mute — 
I love you — love you so. 

I love you ! Oh, the Orient flame, 

Slow-kindled in a heart like mine, 
Springs up, electric, at thy name, 
Rose-flushed, rare water, unto wine : 
Despair would drink, 
Poised on the brink — 
I love you — love you so. 

I love you! Oh, what art can limn 
The splendor of a golden dawn ? 
What muse the old, old tale re-hymn .'' 
What bliss restore a heaven withdrawn ? 
With loss what gain ! 
With joy what pain ! 
I love you — love you so. 



Poems : By yuan Lewis. 5 1 

I love you ! Oh, the gates of bliss 

Were wide indeed, if you but knew 
The Hden of one thrilling kiss 

Would pledge eternal truth to you: 
liut, oh, the glass, 
Tear- brimmed, alas! — 
1 love you — love you so. 

1 love you ! Oh, could love more pure, 

A calmer faith, or cooler brain. 
Repel, despair, all things endure, 
Or day by day repress, refrain : 
Lest tone or glance. 
Should show, perchance, 
I love you — love you so. 

I love you ! Qh, upon life's gale. 

When films with dark my sky of blue, 
And seas of whelming passions pale, 
I turn to dream of peace and you : 
And love's last breath 
Would welcome death — 
I love you — love you so. 

I love you ! Oh, thou shoreless deep, 

Whose waves are love, whose drops are fire. 

Thy treasures yield, thy secrets keep, 

Yet crown sweet soul, her hearts desire : 



/ Love Ytni So. 

And oh, recall, 
'Tis all in all — • 
I love you — love you so. 

1 love you darling-, in my dreams, 

\\ hat e'er betide my waking day ; 
And hand in hand, by sylvan streams, 
We list and love and live alway: 
For then you know. 
The vast outgrow — 
I love you — love you so. 

I love you — though the song end here. 

Should sadness sign and sigh no more, 
Yet thrill when conscious steps are near. 
And not for aye will seal love's lore: 
For time will show, 
What Heaven must know — 
I love you — love you so. 

I love you! And the years will teach, 
Erstwhile the voiceless shadows fall. 
That Silence may have gift of speech, 
And Thought be still beyond recall : 
For cycling years, 
Bud hopes with fears — 
I love you — love you so. 



Porins : By yuan Lnuis. 



53 



On An Old Coin. 

I. 

I NSENSATE tribute from the imperial mint ! 
~_ By what taction coined, for what cause begotten, 
Thou dost sway men's lives, yet reflect no hint, 
Of thy existence still : or of men forgotten ! 




" When the Crpator is Lost in Vanished Years.' 



II. 

Yet such the fact — the creation still survives, 
When the creator is lost in \anished years ; 

Oh, could this coin bear record of our lives, 

Would it be of heart breaks, pleasures, or of tears? 



54 ^ge to Youth. 

Age to Youth. 



I 



F youth still glorified my brow. 

Instead of age and snow white hair, 
I know not what would be my vow, 

To one so lovely )oung antl fair. 

But this I know that womanhood, 
In all its charms appears in thee. 

And all that's brightest, best and good. 
In Friendship's wish, )ou have from me. 

I would that birth-da\s ne'er grew cold, 
1 would all joys were mine to yive, 

O deem my heart not over bold. 
Yet Love is all of life to live ! 

For love, like sunshine. o\er all 

Should fill our lives — tor this 'tis given; 

Let this thy birth-day, dear, recall, 

And shape thy life — and mine — for Heaven. 



Poems: By Juan Leivis. 55 

Her Seventeenth Birthday. 



A 



N 1 ) so tlie day is here again, 
^ ^ \'ou find it slow to come, no doubt, 
But time with \early lengthening train. 
Will speed the days too soon about. 

Oh, era of a woman's hope, 

The day that ushered in her birth. 

When Promise had its fuller scope, 
Fulfillment nothing then of worth. 

Yet buds of promise flower and bloom. 
And girls will grow in woman's ways, 

And dreams will come of Bride and groom. 
And ring, and veil, and bridal days. 

Let wedding bells ring when they may, 
That happy hour can bide the time, 

But this, the joyous natal day. 

When Love is Peace in every clime. 

Then welcome to the happier day, 
Which e'er it be — and welcome this, 

The poet greets thy birth alway, 

With jo\- and pride, and would — a kiss ! 



56 



O Keep Me Hope. 

O Keep Me Hope. 

[Song.] 
I. 



:Jp; quickly seize the harp and sing- 

The songs of love that once were dear, 



O gently touch the chords and bring, 
The star of hope to greet me here. 

II. 

For I have felt the wavering Doubt — 
The curse of Faith —within me rise. 

Until I walk like one without. 
The restful walls of Paradise ! 

III. 

O keep me Hope, from doubt and gloom, 
Her love, I know, cannot be dead, 

O better far the truthful tomb, 

Than doubt or fear that lo\e hath fled ! 

IV. 

Then cheer my heart with Music's strain, 
With songs of love and lovers true ; 

My tortured soul exults again 

And tlies with f-Iope, m\ sweet, to \ou ! 



Poems: By Juav Leivis. 57 



The City of the Dead. 



"Of all the days in the year wt- will tin 11 our faces towards that 
City on Christmas-day, and from its silent hosts bring those we 
loved among ns. City of the Dead, in the blessed name wherein we 
are .a:athered together at this time, and in the Presence that is here 
among us according to the promise we will receive, and not dismiss 
thy people who are dear to us ! " — Charles Diukens. 



■®\4 Mecca where all journejs end, 

Oh, City of the silent host. 
To thee our wayward footsteps tend. 

Tired voyatjers on Life's storm) coast : 
As children, wearied, long- for rest. 
Turn backward tt) the Mother's breast. 

And what are we but children all, — 
\Vc run our course beneath the sun. 

And when it fades, the nightly pall 
Is welcome as the glare we shim ; 

l-'or, oh. then comes the sweet repose, 

The love, the peace, and all — ( iod knows ! 

'I'hongh mound and stone, and column tall, 
Their wasting tril:)utes still must bring- 

To crown the Spoiler ; over all 

I.ove wakes to lite immortal Spring: 

For \(Uith and grace, and hope will rise, 

W'hcrr y\\'\. toriiottcn dust now lies. 



58 Samuel yackscn Randall. 



w 



Samuel Jackson Randall. 

USSS.) 

HHN men are wanted at the front, 



Where Right and [ustice make a stand; 
When freemen in the battle's brunt, 

Strike home for God and Native Land , 
When souls are wanted in the breach. 

Where danger is, to guard the wall ; 
Thank God ! the people have in reach, 

A Randall, at his country's call ! 

No bannered knight of pomp and plume, 

No soldier this for holiday, 
But one for whom the ioe makes room, 

And Wrong and Error clear the wa\'. 
A fearless statesman, tried and true, 

Who holds the people all in all, 
Thank God ! there's one such left to view, 

A Randall, at his country's call! 

■« 

He seeks no compromise with Irauds, 

But, like a Jackson in his might, 
Steadfast for Truth against all odds. 

Strikes sturdy blows for God and Right! 
Oh, ring anew the old retrain, 

The noblest Roman oi them all ! 
A man of fire, of heart, of brain, 

A Randall, at his country's call ! 



Poems: By Juan Leivis. 59 



To a Jewess. 




f^^.RINK"to me only with thine eyes. 
So rare l^en jonson sung; 
O poet-soul to beauty true, 
Thv praise to eyes of fire and dew, 
Down all the years hath rung! 

II. 

F'rom diamond age to age of gold. 

The dearest wells of thought. 
Still spring in loving woman's eyes — 
The unsummed sweetness of the skies- 
In liquid music wrought ! 

III. 

-Still as of old the Orient creed, 

Immortal now as then. 
Who drinks will live — love never dies- 
And stronger in self sacrifice. 

Become as aods not men. 



6o 



To a yewcss. 



W. 

O temple of the living soul, 

Divinest beauty, it' we knew, 
When life shall burst its narrow bounds. 
And reach Love's consecrated grounds, 
I hat angels perfect were as \oii I 

V. 

Fair Jewess ! child of ancient race. 

Endowed with all lor v,'hich lo\e sighs. 
Is there within th\' heart one nook, 
Wherein a lo\'er's glance might look. 
Or is It vet a close-sealed book! — 
I read nw answf-r in thine e\es. 




Poems : By yuan Lewis. 6 1 

Why I See Her. 



1 



.' \()u ask \wv win I see he^r, 

When mv immost soul is torn — 
When my heart is overborne 
With a whisper or a breath, 
lis because I love her. love her! — 
I so tar unworthv of her, 
This alone the reason why, 
No other choice have I, 
rii(;u^h the ]icnalt\ were tieath ! 



II. 



But whv 1 see her, and wh\ 1 flee her, 
Ask the lady's glorious eyes — 
Ask the depths that in them lies, 
That secrets keep of Paradise — 

An anye! shrined by love unsouyht ! — 
A lo\e like sea-bouml river, 
That cliliing, flowing, e\'er 
Rising k('("ps iore\'er. 

As restless and as tleathless. 
Her ima^e in in\ thought. 




62 Their Silver Weddino^. 

Their Silver Wedding. 

LUER skies like colder weather, 
Only makes them question whether, 
Thev are not closer drawn together. 

Drawn the closer evermore. 
F"or, while Hying years are Heetiny, 
And rosy youth is fast retreating. 
Age can never dim their meeting, 
Now far fonder than before. 

Oh, 'tis love makes life a blessing. 
All Earth's selfish Self repressing. 
Till their spirit-lips caressing, 

1 hus a purer passion pour. 
And the heart will cease its beating. 
Ere the voice shall cease repeating, 
Each to each the tender greeting. 

That of lovers who adore. 

Qh, if our flippant days of Being, 
Could have more of God- like Seeing, 
How would now the hours be fleeing. 

That have wasted from their store? 
Nay answer not, the hours regretting. 
Smiles or tears, or hopes or fretting, 
The sums of life, its crosses, — letting 

Love adjust tlieni evermore ! 



H 



Poems : By Jjian Lewis. 63 

Jacob Lundy Brotherton. 

:18IO-1887 

IS heart was sunshine as he walked 



The daily round of duty, 
His soul was peace whene'er he talked, 

Of life, of love, of beauty : 
Of Duty to his fellow man, 

Of Love for every being. 
The beauty of Ciod's larger plan. 

The Faith that grows far seeing ! 

Fi>r him these themes could cover all, 

V){ life that's worth the living, 
And these he felt as of God's call. 

And answered in the giving: 
Not how to die, but how to live, 

His noble life was teaching. 
Not how to save but how to give, 

His practice — not his preaching ! 

Oh, later Franklin ! we shall miss, 

For Truth thv strong conviction, 
Which like thy presence, ne'er remiss. 

Seemed goodly benediction ! 
And so, farewell 1 The sword may win, 

In righteous conflict, glory. 
But the warfare of th)- life has been. 

Vox all a nobler storv ! 



64 Fi fleet! Todav. 

Fifteen To-day. 



Us! I'"itt(-cn tt) tla\- ! < Mi. roseate hours' 
_ Love, Youth and Beauty all kneel to thy shrine. 

And ij^arlanded flowers, from hearts that are ours. 
Speak mistical language in homage to thine ' 

Just kitteen to da\- ' Oh. swift- footed \ears. 

That flee and are fleeing for all of us too ; 
May no shadows, no fears, but all that life cheers. 

Agree, and agreeing-, be loving with \ ou I 

To My Wife, Theresa. 



IWrilteii on the opeiiins: page of .Memoirs of General (irant. j 

1;; write thy name and mine upon a page, or portal, 
■f?^ Where k'ame has written his in an age immortal. 

O grand was he alike in peace or war. 
The simplest virtues in mold heroic cast ; 

This book, his noblest monument b\ far. 
Will be Nouth's incentix'e while Time shall last \ 



T 



Poems : By Jitait Leans. 65 

The Sailor's Parting. 

HE slow waves wash the restless shore. 
As at Creation's dawn, 



The cloudless sky seems night before. 

The hoLir I must be gone. 
Thy curls are waving in the breeze, 

Thine eyes with tears are dim, 
And God's own harp, the wind and trees, 

Ring out a mournful hymn. 

For here upon this sea-beat strand. 

To say farewell we meet, 
To take again the parting hand, 

And kiss adieu, my sweet. 
Oh, oft upon fair fancy's wing, 

.Shall I recall this spot. 
And, strong in spirit, 1 shall bring. 

To thee my loving thought. 

And oh, to thine, through storm or wreck, 

This heart will fondly cling, 
b'or though rude winds should sweep the deck. 

Thy name a calm would bring. 
And sand and surf will each recall, 

The hour we met to thee, 
While joys to come shall whisper all. 

Love promised by the sea : 



66 



The Sailor^ s Farting\ 

Again on shore — safe housed at home. 

Life — through, go hand in hand. 
With ship in port no more to roam, 

Bright skies, and sunset land ! 
Cheer up. beloved, great heart ot thine. 

Heave, yo ! — the deep-sea lead ! — 
Heart soundings, these for me and mine. 

Yet — God is overhead '. 




To a Lady Contributor. 

I I'.y thf Tiieil Kditor.l 

'HHN vou write for the Press, and your fancies express. 
Please remember the Editor's time. 
And that weakest of muses, is one that diffuses. 
And that worst of all 'gabble is rh\me. 



Then give us ideas, as )ou can without chaH, 
Thoughts noble and true like a woman, 

But revise and condense, till your trown is a laus^h. 
Yield the crown ot your patience to no man. 

And thus when I'^qualitv's flag is unturleil. 

And the nrw dawn gives place to the- dark. 
Though Man's was the shot heard round the world, 

'Tis woman's will center the mark I 




Poems: By yuan Lends. 67 

Young was the Love. 

I Song. I 
I. 

H, young was the love now sung by grim hoariness, 
Sweet Hed the Heet hours as ages hive tiown. 
( )n the music thus made tor us, 
The joys that were swayed for us, 
Two passionate hearts with one kingdom one throne. 

II. 

Oh, dream ot'fair youth and sweet theme without weariness. 
Love's rapture and passion evened all of Life's odds, 

For the love then enfolding us. 

Shut eves from beholding us. 
And made the first kiss seem the nectar of gods! 

III. 

Oh, the kiss of ripe lips was then bliss of all happiness, 
Antl a dawn of new worlds was foreshadowed in this 
Oh, twin loves of one flesh of us, 
I'win hopes in one mesh of us. 
Twin souls In one song set to Ecstacy's kiss. 



68 A'oi Dead bnl <^o)ie Befine. 

Not Dead but gone Before. 



I 






N the dewy flush of morning. 
With Hope's sparkle in her eye. 

She has passed from earth to Heaven, 
To the better life on hiq-h. 



Would you, brother, thence recall her, 
To a world of toil and strife? — 

Bind again the ransomed spirit 
To its grosser years of life? 

Would you, from her home of glory, 
And the raptures of the blest, 

Ask her to re-share the story 
Of this duller life's behest? 

No — ah, no! For, in the blending 
Of the past with future life, 

Love is crowned with bliss unending ; 
Soul meets soul — and husband, wife. 

In the mellow hush of evening, 
With Life's duties trials o'er, 

Oh, the immortal joy of greeting 

Friends, not dead, but gone before! 



Poems: By Juan Leivis. 69 

Christmas Chimes. 
1. 

IHIMES, chimes, chimes! — 
Vr^iWhat merr\ Christmas times. 
Come ringing on the memory to-day, 
With a ring, ring, ringing. 
All the old love is clinging, 
To the Present it is bringing. 
While the Future dawns as radiant as May, 

II. 

Chimes, chimes, chimes! — 

Oh, loneK' Christmas times. 
That sadden on our memories to-day ; 

Thoughts that rise the faster. 

With the chiming of the Master, 

Who in sorrow and disaster. 
Bears the burden of all times, grave or gay. 
Ill, 

Chimes, chimes, chmies ' — 

Oh, blessed Christmas times. 
Appeal gentle hearted, in song, gift and rhyme; 

Oh, the wishes warm and glowing, 

Oh, the hearts all over flowing 

With lo\e that passeth knowing. 
In the merrv, inerr\ , merr\- Christmas time! 



70 



Christvins Chimes. 



IV. 

Chimes, chimes, chimes ! — 

Oh, hallowed Christmas times, 
That recall the loved departed, gone before; 

Oh, in the great hereafter. 

As now from roof and rafter. 

Let us hope that baby laughter. 
May ring a golden Christmas on that Shore ! 

The Lady of My Thought. 

SEEK her where Love's torches burn, 

The Lady of my Thought, — 
\nd see her deep brown tresses turn 

To tawniest pokl inv/rouoht ! 
For in those depths ol light and shade, 

I know that hearts are lost, 
Like ships a- wreck by iaise light laid, 
On some tempestuous coast, 

Her glorious hair ! A woman's crown ! 

It is no false light's gleam ; 
In every thread g\ shimmering brown, 
I see sweet love's young dream ! 
O sheen! O web! O silken woof! 

Kiss-covert ! lono, lomj- sougfht — 
O could I win a heart aloof 
The ladv of m\ rhouL''ht ! 





Poems : By Juan Lezuis. 7 i 

Resurrexi. 

[Ganiner H. Cliapiii.— journalist. | 

Fit veil that hangs 'twixt life and Life, 
Has parted since we met ; 
And thro' the rift — 'twixt peace annd strife, 

A farewell glance I get. 
1 see a young heart struggling on, 

I o generous impulse given ; 
Great thoughts a-wreck, a work undone, 
A home by anguish riven. 

I see dim eyes for hopes thus lost, 

Sad hearts where all were gay — 
But for the pilgrim, tempest-tossed, 

Light from the Hills of Day ! 
It bathes in splendor, gloom and night. 

Lilts souls as Sorrow's leaven — 
A light Divine — a spirit light — 

Which hallows earth and heaven. 

I'o each — to all — it comes ; it must. 

Touch hearts like sun on dew. 
And life to Life — ' not dust to Dust — 

It consecrates anew! 
"He is not here!" Bowed souls look up I 

Morn breaks ! from pain and prison, 
To love and hope, and Truth's glad cup, 

The spirit freed hath risen. 



/ - 



Married. 

Married ? 

^f O Meclora is married? 'tis well, 

\ 
-^ . ■' If she wisheel it, I'm heartih' glad. 

Ihough once it such news were to lell, 

'Twould ha\e driven me hopelessly mad, 

■ But the world a strange world is at best. 

We live, and we loxe, and we sigh, 

POr one we console with the- rest, 

And barter lair tiulh lor a lie. 

Though Jenny, and Polly, and Bet, 

And Sally, and Bertie ma\' each. 
Spin jov from life's loom with its fret 

And a truer philosophy teach ; 
Still rises the thought of the past. 

Of Medora thus early to wed — 
Of the heart I thought mine now the last 

1 () leave me not living, but deatl I 

For is it not deatli, or lai" woi'sc. 

To know that all lo\e must now end. 
That no longer in tact, nor in verse. 

Can I properl)- call her my friend ? 
But, oh, if the gossips were wrong, 

Not married but rumored to be? — 
There is hope, love and Hie in the song. 

Married? .Av, mrrried — to me! 



Poems : /> r yuan f.cu'is. 



/.■> 




Her Eighteenth Birthday. 

WITH days so well worth lixing, 

Would my ^itts were worth the gixing, 

With which to fitl)' celebrate, 

I his l)irth-da\ jo)- of thine! — 
But 1 can nothine offer. 
No coin within \w\ coffer, 
1 Jear would tull\- compensate, 
.\ maiden so di\ine ! 



Hut still, in or out ot season — 
Since true love can never reason — 
I shall bless in inmost thought, 
This natal day of thine ! — 
And now when hopes are going. 
With a passionate outflowing, 
In waves ot wishes tancy-wrought. 
Here garlanded are mine ! 
For days like this will last forever. 
When life's tempestuous river 
Winds outward in a calm, 

In a memory of all years ! — 
Of birth-da\' hopes and fears. 
Of happy smiles and tears, — 
All blended like a psalm. 

Which AeP and Time endears ! 



Her Ei^hteenili Birthday. 

Then let this day be gokU-n, 
And all days like the olden, 
Blessed storv days of rhyme ! — 

And life's most rythmic measure. 

Be threaded by our I reasure. 

ill all the girlish pleasure ! 
Ot Youth's most merr) time ! 

While no shadow falls between. 

Morn and eve of dear eighteen. 

Time the Test. 




Time thou test of tame. 
Of love, which last endures. 
Of praise, and joy, and tame, 

Of Faith, which Heaven secures. 

II. 

O Time, thy task is done. 

When love, and hope and faith, 

Resplendent rise, the last goal won, 
And triumph over death ! 




Poems : By "Juan Lezvis. 75 

Truepenny Trot. 

[For the Children.] 

\N the divan in a corner, 
Lay Truepenny Trot. 
.And near her, asleep. 

Lay her wonderful cat. 
A pleasanter picture 

May often be sought, 
And never be found. 

I think than was that ! 

For the tire light on both, 

Had a frolicsome shine, 
While shadows played 'round 

Like wings of the blest, 
.And the tick of the clock, 

Was waltzing towards nine, 
And the sleigh-bells, outside 

Were speeding to rest. 

.And the type-writer keys, 

They vied with the clock. 
In re-shaping ideas 

That are hard as a rock, 
Bv which, understand. 

Though formed into words, 
So quickly from hand, 

As to seem flight of birds ; 



IViiepennv Trol. 

1 hese stereotyped tacts, 

Like Tennyson's throstli-. 
Are as old as the Acts 

Of the oldest Apostle ; 
Vox what new is the fire li>^ht. 

When old is its shine ? 
Or is it the Home li.i^ht. 

That love makes Divine? 

Oh, anywhere, anywhere. 

Out of the world, 
W'hen doubts are the hurden. 

Let fancies be hurled ; 
And Iruth lie the j^uerdon. 

And trust be the |)rize, 
'Jhat makes life in living;', 

.A true paradise ! 



But the night is advancing. 

With sleep as it ought, 
And so trom the sofa 

Rouse Truepenny trot ; 
But bless us, and save us! — 

A tiger, is that — 
Whose shadow would bra\e us ? 

No — that wonderlul cat! 



Pi>t'it/s : Hv 'Yiiau Levis. 



11 



Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 

I I84-I-IS7S. 
I. 

LiiKKkFLL sister, gone beiore, 
With years but half completed : 
\\ hy should we stay the opening door, 
With clinging clutch that clasps no more, 
Or deem life's aims defeated? 
--o^^ '^^1%^ What matter whether earlv. late, 

It all th\' record compensate: 








% 






V'^4W 



II. 

() studious life, which spent aright, 

Re-lives angelic natured, 
I hv earnest words relume death's night- 
Thy laurel'd page sheds living light — 

For souls that grow full statured '. 
What matter, then, call'd soon or late. 
If all thv record conijiensate? 
111. 
() youthful da\ s, now grown so long. 

That crown and sum thy stor\. 
The rieeing years to thee belong, 
For Time itself would blush to wrong- 
Tin- short, full life of glory I 
For, few or many t-arly, late — 
What matter, if they compensate ? 



78 



Ai the Depot. 



At the Depot. 



A 



whistle blows — down sweeps the train. 
In last embrace I press you, 
The parting hand we clasp again. 
Good bye. my girl, God bless vou ! 



The moistened eye — the trembling lip, 
With love and grief caress you. 

The tender heart — the closer grip. 
The earnest words, God bless you. 

The moments fly — the signal bell ! 

Let no sad thoughts depress you ; 
We part to meet — "Adieu!" "Fa'rewell 

Good bye, m\' girl, God bless you ! 

A waving scarf — the train speeds on — 
A card — where to address you, 

And "all aboard" — )ou, too, are gone, 
But memor\' holds, God bless \ou ! 



And thLis through life, by separate ways. 
We go till death assess you. 

And change, my girl, the parting phrase. 
To meet for aye I — God bless vou ! 



H 



/'oeii/s : By Juan Leivis. 79 

Her very Smile is a Caress. 

[Song.] 
1\R \er\- smiU' is a caress, 
That wins me e'er she speak, 
And so love need not confess, 

The charm of eyes and cheek. 
Yet her Hps are roses sweet, 

While her star-lit eyes repress 
The flitting- glance more fleet. 
Than her smile — a shy caress ! 

Yet I stand before her mute, 

Dumb with joy 1 would express, ■ 
Wanting- words to urge my suit. 

Though her smile is a caress. 
Oh if golden words were mine, 

My thoughts that linger there. 
With her glances would entwine. 

And kiss the mazes of her hair. 

They would fan the hopes that bless, 

Like sunshine as we meet, 
For her smile is a caress, 

That is heaven itself to greet. 
( )h, sweet lips with pearly gate, 

Perfect form with Love's impress, 
That glance fias sealed my fate. 

Her very smile is a caress ! 



So To the Aitwr'nan Jiaj^le. 



To the American Eagle. 



[As the author was walking along the- Atlantic coast, one early 
morning, he saw an eagle flying far aloft drop a quill, which the surf 
cast up at his feet. He at once converted it into a pen.] 




Eagle of the early morn. 
Abroad on tireless wing, 
Thy standard 1 have always born, 
And to thy shield I cling. 

My blood has riowed thy Hag beneath, 

The red blood of my youth, 
My keen sword leaped from out its sheath, 

in strong support ot 1 ruth. 

Yet, Eagle, if m\' xoice couUl reach, 

Bevond thy farthest Bight, 
My cry for Peace should Nations teach, 

A nobler course than .Might. 

Good will to men ' Let love endure. 
And War's fierce clouds be dry. 

Let justice rule, and lives be pure. 
With Hope in e\ er\ sky I 



I 



Poems : By '/uau I^ewis. 8 1 

I Love Another. 
I. 

lo\ f another ! Is it wrong, 
That I, a married man, 
Should Hght of heart, burst into song, 
And happy as the whole day long, 
Declare what others ban ? 
II. 
I love another ! Whisper ? dare ? 

Why should I hide my love? 
For such as we true lovers are, 
Each heart aglow — each hope laid bare, 
W\ other joys above. 
III. 
I love another ! Oh, so proud ! 

No monarch im his throne. 
Could happier be. il trom the crowd. 
The high-born pressed with homage loud, 
rhan I. when comes m\,' own ' 
IV. 
I love another! If her kiss, 
Were- like the mvstic ring, 
To shield, protect trom all amiss — 
.All ills of Eld — all woes of this — 
Heaven to earth 'twould brino- 



cS2 



/ L 



ove 



Anoth 



er. 



V. 

And who is she? I'his heart of gold, 

Jhat binds itself to me ? 
A wee, wee thing, our two-)ear old, 
Full bud of blessing un foretold, 

rhat clings about my knee. 
Vl. 
And so, although new love has burst 

Like sunshine in ni)' lite. 
No jealous thought disturbs her first, 
Who, alwa)'s true, sweet lo\c immersed, 

Crowned, laureled mothei! — wile. ' 



w^m^/ 





Poems: By Juan Lewis. ^3 

Hymn to Peace. 

[Ciettysburg Revisited.] 
I. 

f||OME o'er the sunlit sea, 
JM Thou hioh born goddess, come ! 
Brino- all life's joys with thee, 
Brino- sony where all is dumb : 
Come o'er the sun-lit sea. 
II. 
Oh, Peace, the years grow long. 
Since Strife himself was slain, 
Yet Love will right the wrong. 
As time has banished Pain : 
Come o'er the sun lit sea. 
111. 
( )h, come to our eager sight. 

On dusk-dim heights break way, 
Spent forces of the night, 
Grow pale in rising day: 
Come o'er the sun -lit sea. 
IV. 
To-day thy blessed light, 

Falls on bud and blossomed rose, 
Where raged the battle's might, 
1 see the wild Hower grows: 
Come o'er the sun- lit sea. 



84 Hymn to Peace. 

V. 
Come to the bereaven heart. 

As sunshine on this sod, 
Love-crowned with heahng art. 

For the Hving, and tor God : 

Come o'er the sim-lit sea. 

To One Beyond. 

THOU dead and 1 alive ? No — no, 
For Hke some gray crag tottering from its bed. 
Dropping rain like tears and crumbling slow, 

I, and not thou art dead. 

Thou gone, while I remain ? Nay, 
For when did twin souls part and no warning give, 
H one ot us is dead, I bid thee stay ; 

'lis I, not thou hast ceased to live. 

And yet not so : thy los c and mine, 
Was of tht- .Spirit, quenchless as the stars. 
That knew no parting — imperishable, divine. 

That neither Time, absence, chaos mars. 

Thou li\c'st ' () m\ster\' nt lik- not death; 
Thy soul relumes the lani]) that flickers to deca\'. 
Not dead, my vanished darling! but rosN' with the breath 
Of resplendent morn that comics to ]K'rfect da\ 



Poeiiii : H\ Juan Lewis. S5 

No Love is Lost for Death is True. 



Q 



H. hearts of \outh, of love, of truth. 

Of davs, that vanished long ago, 
Where are ye all ? Beyond recall 
In Eden lands ? I do not know, 
But this is true, that I — that you — 
Were happ)' in that long ago. 
Oh, hearts of truth, oh, loves of youth, 

1^'or the io\-, the wit the laughter. 
The bliss that cometh after, 
The rapturous lips, that day eclipse. 
The balmy night the rare moonlight, 
ihe joyous song that echoed long 

From arch, and groin and rafter ; 

Are yet all mine all still art- thine! 
Antl thus I ilo not now I'epine, 
If like the palm on arid plain, 
1 stand alone — not all bereft — 
At life's high noon, yet no heart lett, 

W hich beat with mine on life's incline. 

What then was true is truer still. 

We hoped, we loved, with Nature grew, 
.Xnd t(i\'d with life as infants do, 



86 No Love is Lost Jor Death is True. 

We knew no ill that frienclshiiis chill, 
But each in each found lull content, 
For lives and loves were innocent ! 

And if "better to have loved" we knew, 
Ah, better now, for death is true! 
And come what ma\', as come what must, 
This heart will be forgotten dust. 
When I forget, oh, hearts of truth, 

'I'hv loves and hours, immortal youth. 

^Tjl ♦ 'l> — 

Hail on the In-bound Tack. 

I I'lfsidfiU I ..11 liclcl. I 

M^.^IL, n()l)le voyag-er, on the in-bound tack I 
The Pilot is aboard, the port in view. 
The sun, no longer, lonely, illumes the clouds of black. 
For love, and hope and prayers ha\ c brought thee back, 
And the whole Nation sails with >ou! 

New courage, great heart I thine the country cheers; 

Fair blows the breeze for thy returning sail. 
The Far-coast of Life recedes and disappears. 
From gaze of watching millions in mist ot grateful tears. 

XwX Past, anil Present, Future send a lo\ing Hail ' 



There was a favorable change in the President's symptoms, and a sfenera] 
expectation that he would recover, at the time this was written— July 9- i*''''!- 



Poems : By Juan Lewis. 

A Battle Prelude. 



A 



slumljtTous calm, air bruathiny balm. 
A skv of blue, that gave no clue, 
( )f what must come, tor fate was dumb. 
Yet lull of grim e.xpectancy, 

Tho' closed in tears that day of fears, 
The morning bright was white with light, 
Retlecting all as I recall, 

()ur bannered pomp ami brilliancy. 

( )ur stern .irra\' was massed that day. 
In front ami Hank by rank on rank, 
Our rows ot steel could almost teel 
The patriot's sigh ot urgency. 

I ike wa\c on \\a\ f, or gra\'e on grave, 
( )ur columns close, tile, wheel, dispose 
To make the game when lights the flame 
Of warfare's dread emergency. 

.And who shall win? mid battle's ilin, 
,\ thought like tiiis is all amiss ; 
For when 'tis se-t the b,\\onet. 

No (]uestion asks expediencw 



88 ^I Ihtltlc J'reliide. 

No mattin- who, the solditr true, 
Ne'er asks the Right, 'tis his to right. 
And if he tall — death covers all — 
All errors and delinquency. 



The Magdalen. 

. I () her has been the piniishment, 
i To him should be the banishment, 
But, oh, the world I — it never can 
Foreive the woman ! though the man 
Is held the higher — o^reater vet, 
For her alas the sun has set ! 
This social \erdict is not mine. 
True guidance is a Lite L)ivine, 

O I hou who wrote upon the dust. 

And blottetl (jul a sm as great; — 
Let equal justice — sternU just — 

Here, rh\ compassion emulate ! 
Till he, like her, shall wear the brand, 
And in the light | or dark] shall stand. 
Or tall beside her' nothing loth 
To own the truth that claims them both. 
As Thy great Love, which knows no' leven 
Accords to each an equal Hea\en. 



I 



Poems : By "Juan Lewis. 89 

In Memoriam. E. A. C. 

[Atlantic City 1886.] 
I. 

look far out beyond the sea, 
1 catch a gleam of distant sail ; 
One moment — all that's left to me, 

Then drops between night's misty vail. 
II. 
Oh, Goil ! that life should be so brief! 
A farewell glance — a vision dear — 
We catch a gleam, then turn in grief, 
To mourn the one no longer here. 
III. 
And she is gone, but not afar, 

Her teachings linger where she trod. 
With those she loved — a guiding star, 
Her spirit rests in peace with God. 
IV. 
That Ood whose love omnipotent. 

Our frail, weak faith can scarce conceive, 
Who knows our ills — our best intent — 
Uplifts our souls, forbids to grieve. 
Y. 
O blessings on the brain that thinks, 

.And blessings on the heart and mind, 
That leaves us rich in kindly links. 

That binds in bonds ot love mankind. 



go 



hi Memoriam. — 1£. A. C 



VI. 

A gentle soul ! a perfect life ! 

That wrought much good in humhle ways, 
A sweet, grand woman, noble wite, 

Who charmed with goodness all her da)s. 
VII. 
And still 1 look across the tnam. 

And sea of years beyond the tide. 
To where she waits the harvest home. 

When Love's vast gates shall open wide. 




Arithmetic. 

INE the sum of life computing. 
Thine the love makes it divine. 
All its baser jo\ s transmuting. 

Turning water into \\\\n-. 
We might add with satisfaction. 

But not dixide for loss or gain. 
For an\- sum that shows sul>traction. 
Rule of three is trie^l in \ain. 




Acrostic. 

HAD ! O Heaven ! we envy you 

-A comrade tried and staunch and true !- 

Valor, worth and Love must tell. 
In after \ears the P'ame his due. 
-Since ijrief alone now sa\s— farewell! 



Poems : By Juan Lewis. 



91 




Sumpter. 

[April 14. 1861 I 

£# ULLEN clouds the night o'er-cast, 

But in the murl<;y gloom, 
An eager host is gathering last. 
Impatient tor the Inigle's blast — 
The martial note — to some the last, 
That summons to the tomb. 

Hark, that roar! Night thrills, and cjuakes ! 

It is the signal gun I 
That Ijooming from the Battery wakes 
The mother's hopes and fears, and makes 
The patriot heart, for loved one's sakes. 

Weep tears for War begun ! 

.\nil now the guns trom Sumpter tell 

Back the answering tale 
.\nd from the shores adjacent knell. 
The doom of men 1)\- shot ami sht;ll, 
WMiile battle smoke, like pall of hell, 

Makes new born widows pale ! 

( )h, shattered hopes! Oh night of tears! 

Do not thy curse extend ! 
Bv all the Future's coming years, 
B\- all humanit\ dreads and fears — 
\\\ all a noble heart reveres — 

Mav (iod the Riuht Defend ' 



92 Love of Drink is a Disease. 



Love of Drink is a Disease. 




I IE same old tale is told again, 
When he comes back from town, 
He tries to keep his spirits up. 

By putting spirits dovv-n. 
And this is all that need be said. 

In spite of sneer or trovvn. — 
Malt takes no place of beef and bread — 

And at the best he'll soon be dead, 
Who puts the spirits down. 

For why? — He burns the candle at both ends, 

Ring-master is and clown. 
And drinks to keep his spirits up. 

And fails with spirits down. 
We think reform would bring release 

From ills that paint the town, 
But love of drink is a disease. 

Not easy banned, because they please, 
Who crv its victims down. 




Poems : By Juan Lewis. 93 

Ye Little Story of Ye Pyg. 

HIS is ye story of ye Pyg, 
Who came to Washington, 
He said I'm pork, and will be big, 

Or burst in rushing on ; 
With bristles smooth, and curly tail. 

He riew along the track. 
Ihe people thought as he passed by, 
Some comet had come back. 

He reached the House, he climbed the stair, 

He took his seat within. 
He found himself right welcome there, 

They saw that he could •■chin:" 
"I'was better than if mild or meek. 

And fax'ored on the floor, 
Thex want no Pyg with pygmy cheek, 

But want a hog with more. 

He took the speaker 1)\ the hand. 

He heard the chajjlain's prayer. 
Saw the old lady's peanut-stand. 

And mourned the bar-room there ; 
Of words, of wisdom he heard much. 

Of wit he drank his till. 
And in night session in his clutch. 

He held his little bill. 



94 y'l^ Little Story of Ye Pyg. 

And when he rose to make his speech. 

Or squall his little squeal, 
He found most members out of reach. 

Engaged in poker deal. 
And much he marveled at the same. 

But got from one a hint. 
To give his eloquence to llame. 

Or else get leave to print. 

And so to custom nothing loth, 

He sent to the G. P., 
Enough for House and Senate both, — 

Too much for you and me ; 
And yet this plan is ver)' good, 

You are not forced to read, 
Nor listen, be it understood, 

To Mr. Pyg, his breed. 

And then the bill that fails to pass, 

Ma\- thus be simmered down. 
His bray unlike another ass. 

Brings cent, per cent, per pound ; 
For though in legislation he, 

Ma\ prove a perfect Hunk, 
His contributions to G. P. 

Means business in old junk. 



Poems: By Juan Lewis. 95 

"lis noi unusual you should know, 

rhat tons of printed bills, 
Are carted from the G. P. O., 

Direct to paper mills ; 
For rather than be ''short" on call, 

They jirint to an excess. 
And fearing lest some waste befall. 

Cash l>u\s it in recess. 

And thus did he the season through. 

Grow bigger, bigger, big, 
And fattening on his clients due, 

Soon grew Old Pork from Pyg ; 
Yet still the strangest thing perhaps. 

In all his strange career. 
Was never ending jobs from chaps. 

Who sought to catch his ear. 

But had his ear been twice as large, 

As the shadow of the dome. 
These chaps would still assume the charge. 

Of running things at home ; 
Por man\' a better man than he, 

Ambitious to make laws, 
They urged, had better climb a tree. 

Or stay at home for cause, — 



96 } 'e Little Story of i 'e Pyg. 

Than fail to haxt- their might) aid. 

In settingr things to rights, 
And tried to prove it as they said, 

Bv frequent poker nights. 
But education has its use, 

And soon as Pyg was bhoat. 
With wily craft he shunned abuse. 

And won b\- lard the vote. 

He "chinned" his wa\ where'er he went. 

And lobbied night and day, 
Nor deemed the time at all ill-spent. 

If he could grease his way ; 
And, when others thought his future bleak, 

He smiled, for eloquence- 
La)- in his admantine cheek, 

Which dollars wrought from cents. 

And with him Mrs. Pyg, the while. 

Reflected borrowed light. 
The honors gained for porcine style. 

She deemed so foreign, cpiite ! 
And then the brood of little Pygs, 

Like stairs, successive steps. 
Soon bristled o'er like social prigs. 

In hoggish ways adepts. 



Poems : By yuan Leivis. . 97 

In tlrive or walk, in doors or out, 

Wherever chance might lead, 
There never was or could be doubt 

Ot Madam Pyg s, indeed ; 
The high cut sleeve, the low cut neck. 

That Fashion's tollies prize, 
The llush of rouge to fainth' deck, 

Such charms — for infant eyes ! 

And vet the whirligig of Time, 

Brings in rexenge lor all, 
Pyg's \ote drops off, his upward climb, 

'I'urns back to sudden fall. 
The boodle district counts him out, 

His Hitting no one- knows. 
The unpaid bills of ball and rout, 

(roes with him as he goes. 

The CN'nic Editors may laugh, 

But party Bristlers mourn, 
And write Poor Pyg, his epitaph: 

"P"ull of years — and corn." 

ENVOY. 

How sweet is fame, great intellect ! 
Yet sweeter, greater cheek and neck! 




gS To a Quaker Friend. 

To a Quaker Friend. 

I. 

^H, sailor on the unknown sea,* 
Oh, pilot bearing light and chart. 
The poet hymns a thought of thee. 

That we with burdens, may take heart! 

II. 
Some souls are born to human needs, 

And true as needle to the pole. 
They live for truth and plant the seeds, 
Whose growth is beauty of the soul ! 
III. 
Though some in barren by-ways toil, 

And die, perchance, unknown to fame, 
'Tis not in vain, the cultured soil 
Bears fruit that after tillers claim. 
IV. 
Not ours to tell how far good deeds, 

May reach when springing from the heart, 
God's hand from which the prophet feeds, 
Is not withdrawn from such apart. 

V. 
The lightest word, the kindliest smile. 

That e'er to fainting soul was given. 
Reward mav bring, on angel's wing, 
That opes the golden gates of heaven. 



Poems : By 'Jtcan Lewis. 99 

VI. 
And when a man like this has passed, 

His fruitful days in doing good — 
Has myriad millions' wealth amassed 
In loving hearts, that understood; 
VII. 
When such as he has gone from view — • 

Has disappeared behind the vail — 
Why should we mourn that one so true, 
Is homeward bound with snowy sail ! 
VIII. 
Oh, sailor on the unknown sea, 

Oh, pilot bearing light and chart, 
I would that we might follow thee, 
With courage new in Custom's mart. 
IX 
For Use and Custom o\ermuch. 

Doth mask men's faces in the world, 
I would for Truth that all of such 

Smug hypocrites were outward hurled: 
X. 
And plainer words and plainer thought, 

Were recognized in manner due, 
.And that the ])rinciples that ought, 

To sway mens lives were always true. 



lOO To a Quaker Friend. 

XI. 
I would, O God. that holier lives, 

Like his that's gone, miyht rise to-day. 
And all that's pure that still survives, 

Make life and love but one, alwayl, 
XII. 
The kindly word, the generous hand, 

The help in secret, good by stealth 
Would cheer as if an angel band, 

Wrought from all ill the rosiest health I 
XIII. 
Why should we weep, for such a day? — • 

Life's skein of ill is not rewound ; 
Our little creeds are not God's way : 

The cycling ages still go round. 
XII, 
O Friend of progress ! th\ farewell. 

Bespeaks the onward march of Time, 
The midnight cry of "All is well !" — 

The Spirit hears from heights sublime. 



*"The unknown Sea that rolls around all this world."— 1 )ickens. 



Poems: B\ Juan Lcxvis. 



lol 




Ready for Burial? 



[Night (in the liattlelield.] 

in high thf torch so light may fall. 
Such sleepers will not wake, 

Thank God ! these silent ones are all, 
That mother hearts can break. 

Lift higher yet. Let the lady pass. — 
The dear, dead boys uncloak: 

"I seek my son." Your son, alas ! — 

'•Her son?" — 'twas the dead-line spoke. 



A tall form rose, blood warmed like wine, 
'Lhe torch waved high in air. 

A shout that reached the rebel line, 
Thrilled every soldier there. 

Her voice had roused, her love had won, 

Revived the Hitting breath. 
Back from the dead had called her son. 

And triumphed over death. 

Oh, mother-do\ e ! I would that song, 
Had power to witness thine, 

For with our first, last sigh we long, 
For Love that's all Divine. 



I02 Afciin Face to Face. 

Again Face to Face. 



||T may be. I know not, in that tyrannous citv, 
■^ We orlutted the tigers that mangled us there, 
Condemned as two Christians, and torn without pity. 
From the home and the life tate blessed us to share. 

Not less thou, I know, than a princess most ro\aI. 

And I, of the Legion, a general, then. 
In kingliest circles we had been the most loyal. 

And pledged to each other, dared all that has been. 

Oh, spirit immortal, what hopes we have cherished, 
What joys and what sorrows together ha\e borne. 

What lives led together, while Nations have perished. 
From the chaos of ages through twilight to morn. 

And hark ! to the striking again of tlie hour. 

Two thousand vears later, again tace to face. 
Once more the old struggle ol people and power. 

Hear the step in advance, see the march of the race ! 

But we ma\' not tarr_\'; eons ol ages on ages. 
Our spirits have toiled and loved tor our kind. 

Say, is it not written, oh, .Soul, in th)- pages, 

-Shall we not again live in the triumph of Mind? 




I\ieiiis: By "Juan Lewis. lOj 

Parting Song. 

I. 

RING out the rare wine, vintage Eighteen and Two, 
And take an old song e're )'ou go, 
Though I ma\' not here ofter you anything new, 
^'et friendship as rare as the wine and as true, 
Is ours mv old iriends. as you know. 

11. 

Bring- out the rare wine, drops ot years that have run. 

And sing an old song e'er you go. 
Its heart true as ours, mist of gold from the sun. 
Cementing old friendships affection has won, 

And doubling Life's joys — let it flow! 

III. 

Bring out the rare wine, let our parting re-knit, 

Loviny bonds that forever shall shine, 
I'^ewest words are befitting when love is more fit, 
.^nd while the lamp burns that Infinity lit. 

Let it flame with a olor\- olivine! 






5l?e for(^\^<^ of t\)(^ J^O""^ 

f\r)d Otl^er poems. 
BV JUKN L-EiAZIS. 



Second Edition. Cloth. $i.oo. 




nsromoES of ti3:e :e=i^ess. 



The Philadelphia Ledgb:r: Colo- 
nel Lewis has frequently contributed 
his verses to the dail_v newspapers, and 
the favor with which tliey have hitherto 
been received has led him to publish a 
volume of his poems. The majority of 
these are quite new and have never 
heretofore appeared in print, but a few 
of them are familiar. The author is 
seen at his best in his war songs, which 
will strike a sympatiietic chord in the 
heart of many a veteran. They seem 
to breathe of the spirit of the battle, of 
the soldier's dash and bravery; they 
stir the soldier's blood, and j'et tlirough- 
out it is apparent that the writer feels 
the horror, the suffering, and the agony 
which war entails. He is also very 
strong in his dainty children's poems, 
wliich betray the kindly, loving nature 
of tiie man. As a rule, however, he is 
less spontaneous in his ligliter verses. 
These are tiioroughly of a newspaper 
iirder. pleasing and metrical, yet not 
marki'il by any labored depth of 



thouglit or originality. Taken as a 
whole, however, Colonel Lewis has 
struck a very honest note, and he is to 
be congratulated on his efforts to please 
and win tlie ear of the i)ublic. 



Philadelphia Commercial List: 
Here we have a collection of over sixty 
pieces of verse, and not one can be called 
mediocre. Tiie collection contains 
verses that possess tlie true genius of 
poesy, the idealism, the romance, the 
wit, the sentiment, the philosophy. 
The heroic " Forging of the Sword ; " 
that dainty conceit, the " Song of the 
Sea;" the soulful "Thank God for 
Tears ; " the battle-field bolero, " The 
Old Canteen ; " the consoling and hu- 
mane and fraternizing " Gettysburg — 
A Battle Ode ; " and the gem, " Her 
Birthday — To Baby Rose," and others, 
are sure to live and bless the readers in 
the near and far distant future. The 
book is handsomely bound and appro- 
priately illustrated. 



The Yonkers Gazktte : Tliis dainty 
volume will be welcomed by all readers 
of poetry who appreciate originality of 
thought and quaintness of conception. 
Its range of topics is varied, and wiiile 
its strongest measures and most striking 
effects are reflected in the lines that 
are associated with camp and battle- 
field, many of its bri.ef numbers are vi- 
brations of the harmony of the heart — 
love in its most ardent j)iiases and af- 
fection in its tenderest guise finding 
frequent mterpi'ctation ni the shorter 
products of Mr. Lewis' muse. Many 
of these last will be found ada})table to 
birthday and other home festivals, and 
will be serviceable as tribute songs on 
such occasions. The versification is 
varied, relieving the volume of all 
monotony of rhythm, while a vivid 
fancy imparts to the pages ever- varying 
conceits of imagination. Those wiio 
know of the excellence of this author's 
prose writings, will be interested in this 
product of his occasional trijis into the 
realm of song. The book is issued in a 
style deserving of high approval, and 
its illustrations are in every way worthy 
tiie poet's work. 



Washington Post : " The Forging of 
the Sword, and Other Poems," is the 
title of a tasteful volume in which Mr. 
Juan Lewis has grouped over seventy 
of his poetical compositions, all of which 
belong to a high order of verse. Tlie 
metrical productions of Mr. Lewis are 
invariably characterized by grace and 
feeling and the true spirit of poesy. To 
iidd to the attractiveness of his little 
collection, it has been handsomelj' il- 
lustrated. 



Inventive Age : A very attractive 
little volume of poems comes to us writ- 
ten by Juan Lewis, of this city. The 
author has not wooed the muse in vain. 
His patriotic j)oems are strong, and 
evince a lofty spirit and true love of 
country. His verses of sentiment and 
love poems are original and admirable. 



An exquisite specimen of the latter is 
entitled " I Love You So," and breathes 
forth the genuine poetic instinct. 
Worthy of Tom Moore are the lines: 

" I love you ! Yet on desert sands. 

The spliiD.'; of silence sets his seal ;. 
On me are laid his stern commands, 
And voiceless years bring no appeal." 

There could be no truer picture of 
hopeless and helpless love than this. 
The domestic poems are little gems in 
tlieir light, happy color and joyous 
tones. " I Love Another " reminds us 
of the "Picture." 

Mr. Lewis is particularl}' happy in 
his treatment of childhood scenes and 
nursery rhymes. The ode to a little 
child, " Conie and be Kissed," deserves 
a higli place in literature as a specimen 
of pathetic tenderness, and it alone 
would insure Mr. Lewis' recognition as 
a true household poet. 

The memorial poems are numerous, 
and placed here and there throughout 
tlie volume in delicate mosaic. They 
give us frequent glimpses of the heart 
life of the author. 



Colorado Farmer : This handsome 
volume contains half a hundred or 
more poems, very many of them of great 
merit. As a writer of verse, Mr. Lewis 
can be accorded the gift of the divine 
afflatus, for his poems possess the true 
genius of poesy. Very many of the 
poems are patriotic in their nature, some 
of them war poems. There are also 
memorial verses, the most difficult of 
all to write. A portrait of the author 
accompanies his poems. 



Washington Republic: Mr. Juan 
Lewis, who resides at Brookland, has 
published in a handsome volume, " The 
Forgingof the Sword, and other Poems." 
Some of tiie poems are suggested bj' 
the writer's experience during the war, 
but brea.the a spirit onl}' of reconcili- 
ation and peace. There are no long 
sustaining fliglits, but an evident pref- 
erence for lyrics, with rhj'thmic recur- 



rence of lines that would well adapt 
them for singing. Tiiere is a wide 
range from the sombre and pathetic to 
the gay and playful, and something to 
suit almost every mood of the reader. 
Mr. Lewis has wisely chosen to write of 
what lay nearest to his heart, not of the 
I'emote or artificial. 



Welco.ue Guest: One of its chief 
attractions, both to the eye and mind, 
is the variety of rliythm that character- 
izes its pages. There is not a poem in 
tliis dainty volume but ranks above the 
ordinary, and some compare favorably 
with the choicest poems of our Ameri- 
can literature. Among the poems we 
would specially mention are : " Gettys- 
burg—A Battle Ode," "The Old Can- 
teen," "Song of the Sea," "Return of 
the Regiment," " Love and Duty," and 
" Men of Action." The book is bound 
in all colors of cloth, full gilt; is $2 per 
volume. 



"Strike Out" has tiie ring of Tenny- 
son's famous lines, " Ring Out, Wild 
Bells." Love sonnets, domestic poems, 
and themes of peace and war com- 
prise the rest of the book, which will no 
doubt find ready sale in America and 
among all lovers of real poetrj'. 



NoRRiSTOWN Her.\ld: llie name of 
this author is not new to the literary 
world, and for many years both prose 
and poetry have flowed from his ready 
pen. Most of the f)oems are now pub- 
lished for the first time. Many of them 
deal with familiar subjects, some of 
which were taken from the war. Get- 
tysburg and Sumter described in words 
that have the true war ring, and many 
poems of affecting and tender topics 
are mingled with those of lighter vein. 
The entire work is very creditable, very 
readable, and should have ready sale. 
The illustrations evince a high order of 
artistic talent and serve to enhance the 
value of the book. 

The Theosophist (India): The 
poems grouped under the above title 
are considerably above the average 
of American poetry. The author has 
in the main confined him.self to de- 
scribing every-day scenes and inci- 
dents, and herein shows his good sense 
and true poetic in.stinct. The "Forg- 
ing of tlie Sword " is well conceived. 



Woman's Tribune : The many 
friends of Colonel Juan Lewis will be 
gratified to find his poems collected in 
a neat volume. " My Ship Comes In " 
is one of the prettiest pieces. " The 
Wedding Day " expresses in choice and 
tender language tlie beautiful thought 
that love is ail in all. One verse we 
quote : 

" I know not how old agre may love, 

When voices fro ii tbe past may call, 
But lore, I know, is from above, 
Wliate'er its years, 'tis all in all ! " 

We come across a familiar poem, 
"There Cometh a God-given Man," 
which first .saw the light in the pages 
of the Tribune. As space affords there 
are many we shall wisli to copy. There 
is a charm in the illustrations which 
seem to bring out the thought of the 
picture even more strongly than most 
of more finished works. 



Current Review : The titular poem 
is based on an incident of the Con- 
federacy. The volume does not lack 
variety. Besides several war songs, 
there are some neat little love poems, 
and two or three somewhat comic, one 
of which, " Ye Story of Ye Pig," hits 
the Congressional hog a fair and square 
blow well deserved. " Gettysburg : A 
Battle Ode," delivered at a reunion of 
the Blue and Grey at Culp's Hill, in 
1SS8, isthe best thing in the book; a 
strong, yet tender poem, as full of true 
feeling as it is of tribute to the honored 
dead. 



Philadelphia Item : Colonel Juan 
Lewis, formerly of this city, but for 
several years a resident of Washington, 
D. C, has just published a collection of 
poems, as varied in subject as they are 



beautiful iu conceptiou. The most 
dramatic poem in the book is the 
" Forging of the Sword," and illustrates 
an incident of the late war; the hero 
being Fisher, the deaf swordmaker of 
the Confederacy. The poem is hand- 
somely illustrated, and is really the gem 
of the collection. The "Song of the 
Sea " is a breezy effusion, and " Sum- 
mer Days" takes us to lands where the 
sun is always shining. 

Love is a theme always dear to the 
poet's heart, and Colonel Lewis does it 
full justice, giving a number of melo- 
dious stanzas to this subject. The book 
is printed on heavy cream-tinted paper, 
in the best style of the art, and is pro- 
fusely illustrated by Charles Bradford 
Hudson in a higlily creditable manner. 
Colonel and Mrs. Lewis, it will be re- 
membei'ed, published a journal with 
the title of Woman's Words in tliis city 
some years ago, which was for a time 
quite popular, and assisted materially 
in the efforts made for the advancement 
of women in every walk of life. 



Home Journal : In many of the 
war poems there is at times a genuine 
fire of inspiration, and there are others, 
not a few, in which some of the pathos 
and tragedy of life find musical utter- 
ance. 



New York Independent : These 
poems are full of wood-music of a simple 
sort, and they breathe a spirit of honest 
human love. Their feeling is genuine. 



Phrenological Journal : " The 
Forging of the Sword " is of high 
merit, and the seventy or more poems 
that fill out the list show an evenness 
of style that is not often met in the 
production of the writer of occasional 
verse. The temper is sweet and ele- 
vated — not a coarse line or reference is 
to be met in the whole series. Perhaps 
those thoughts that will please most are 



the reflections of home and family life. 
The author's feeling in this lineis warm, 
and finds happy expression in dwelling 
on incidents that impart special interest 
to the relations of wife, child, motlier, 
brother, etc. We have seen few other 
collections of verse that have pleased 
us as much as this. 



Florida Pine Apple: In the hun- 
dred or more pages of this volume there 
are many poems of merit ; fancies of 
the firelight and day dreams of delight. 
We reproduce one of them in anotlier 
column to show that Mr. Lewis pos- 
sesses the divine afflatus, and is one of 
those who sing as birds sing, because it 
is his nature to do so. In a poem on 
"Town and Country" Mr. Lewis has 
this: 

" We go where roses blush and blow 
Aud skies and woods in splendor glow.'' 

It would seem that the poet had fair 
Florida in his mind, and gave expres- 
sion to the hope that one day he would 
live within its borders. 

Mr. Lewis has a lovely home in 
Brookland, D. C, but he has selected a 
site here, overlooking the lakes, which 
he hopes to occupy " some day." Mr. 
Lewis announces as in press, " Trust 
Her Not," the strange story of a veteran 
soldier, a book of over 300 pages. 



Soldiers' Tribune: These verses 
have been received with much favor. 
Many of the poems will be read by the 
veterans with tears in their eyes, or a 
quickened beating of the heart. 



Hartford Times : " The Forging of 
the Sword," and other poems, is a large- 
page illustrated volume of stirring- 
poems, some of war, some of peace, 
some of love; all good. The jiocm 
which gives to the volume its title is 
one of tlie very best in the volume. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 926 300 9 



